Cocoa Beans
by beserkergoddess
Summary: “You’re trying to lose weight, you go to a gym, and you meet a chocolatier?” Draco joins a gym and meets Harry. What more can I say? One-Shot, AU, Non-Magic. HD


* * *

Hey, I'm back, and this time with another Series of Meetings story to add to the collection along with 'The Sci-Fi Night'. If you're not familiar with this collection –which I can imagine, means a lot you- SoM stories are a collection of one-shots that feature different ways in which Harry and Draco could meet. I'm hoping to stick to the theme of AU, non-magic, first person and present tense. In other words, I'm pushing myself out of my lovely, warm safe zone (tear).

So, in this fic (as is indicated by the summary) Draco meets Harry who has a job which appeals greatly to him. As a warning to all of you smut pirates out there, I'm sorry, but no steamy scenes! I'm a young innocent girl, and I could never possibly write such a thing (smile).

As for JK Rowling and her merry band of solicitors, I don't own Harry Potter, never shall either…

Also, just for the record, I don't own Malteasers or Stickit Notes either.

Unfortunately, I cannot for the life of me remember how I came up with the idea for this story or plot-line in particular, but it's been one that I've had for a long time in the back of my mind. The story itself, I must say, came out in a rambling, borderline drabble manner, as in it's a bunch of scenes pasted loosely together. But rather than spend more time pondering and fretting over it, editing and re-editing, I've decided to just let go and set it free. Maybe in time I'll change it if I feel the need. Also, it hasn't been beta'd as I felt it was easier to hand over raw.

Finally, this fic is a _one-shot _(just to reiterate for those who read but don't take in), AU and HD meaning MALEMALE. Okay?

Alright, let's go!

Cocoa Beans

"Watch where you're going! God, could you take up much more room?"

I gape at the man who I have just bumped into, "_excuse_ me?" I snarl, as my eyebrows rise in outrage. The man scoffs and walks on, leaving me to stare incredulously at his retreating back and fume alone.

Muttering under my breath, I walk on, replaying the rude stranger's words in my mind and angrily coming to the one conclusion that my mind can conjure up;

He inadvertently called me _fat_.

I have never been so offended in my entire life! Sure, maybe lately I've over-indulged a little, but I can't help having a powerful and demanding sweet-tooth.

I sigh piteously and trudge on, already feeling 5 stone heavier and pondering my love handles.

I look down at the ground as a group of young, pretty, _slim_ girls pass by. This is ridiculous; I can't even meet the eyes of other people who happened to be skinnier than I?

No. It's no good; I'm going to have to...

I shiver, it pains to admit such things -even to myself- but I am going to have to do it and the sooner the better.

'_Like ripping off a plaster'_

I can't have people looking at me like a large, awkward beast of a man, it just won't do!

It's time to loose weight.

A shriek of terror resonates throughout my body, a death knell of sorts perhaps emitting by my sweet-tooth or petite muffin-top. Looking edgily about myself, I cautiously check that it wasn't actually me that had screamed out loud.

No one is looking remotely troublous or warily in my direction, indeed one particularly lascivious woman even has the nerve to wink at me!

How dare she not respect how truly hideous I feel at this moment?

I pull an ugly face at her -troubled people: 1- and walk on.

_'Yes, face it body'_ I think, _'it's time to slim and tone up.'_

"First stop, the gym!" My stomach takes that moment to grumble in suggestion and helpfully point out the enticing cake shop on the opposite side of the street.

'_Second stop then? Besides,'_ I reason with myself _'I can always RUN across the road, thus burning off calories in preparation to put them back on with cake!'_

With that promising ideal in mind, I happily begin my weight loss regime in the bakery.

* * *

_'It smells'_ I think uncomfortably as the automatic doors to my local gym slide open again and the stench of sweat and metal engulf me once more. I stand outside, in my brand new sportswear, eyeing the entrance apprehensively and trying to conjure up excuses as to why I can't possibly enter.

The doors maliciously open again, gifting me with the very excuse that I need. I don't need telling twice and am eagerly turning away when a blatantly mocking voice stops me.

"The first step is always the hardest," a woman smiles knowingly at me as she passes me on her way to the changing rooms. I pull faces at her sweating back, feeling incensed by her obvious reverse psychology and decidedly storm inside with my head held high.

_'I'll show that toned, healthy cow!' _I think with a grimace and concentrate on not breathing through my nose and take in my surroundings, _'I'll show them all!'_

It is, of course, as I am taking a good look about myself that I realize just how out of my depths I am. The equipment gleams and winks outrageously at me, and I am clueless as to what to do with it.

Edging around all of the apparent masters of the torture devices, I hover nearby a running machine -safe territory- and watch them all slaving away.

_'Is it really worth it? Do I really want to lose weight _that_ badly?'_ I ponder, taking in their expressions of what appears to be intense pain_, 'my body isn't all _that_ chubby and my weight is perfectly acceptable, I'm just over-reacting is all...'_

Looking down at myself, I am horrified by the image that this particular angle presents to me, and feel supremely frustrated, why can't I just _wish_ the weight away? I need help…that's for sure.

As if by magic a man appears at my side, startling me considerably.

"Do you need any help?" The stranger asks earnestly.

_'Now there's a reason to join the gym'_ I grin, regarding in the man before me. _'Sure, he's a little scruffy in the hair department, but his body is certainly nice, and so are his eyes...' _

"Yes please, I'm Draco, Draco Malfoy." I hold out my hand, suddenly very pleased with how this whole experience is turning out.

"Harry Potter," Scruffy Harry smiles warmly as he shakes my hand with a firm grip that lingers slightly. "You seem to be new here?"

I let the statement-come-question slide, "yes I am, and quite frankly I haven't got a clue what I'm doing."

"Well, I can help you there!" Scruffy Harry's eyes twinkle and I struggle to concentrate as he begins to give me a small tour of the gym.

Those damn disarming eyes!

It occurs to me, as I work steadfastly on the rowing machine under Scruffy Harry's careful watch, that I don't really _know_ anything about the other man. I quite happily babble on about myself in response to Harry's genuine questions, and just assume that he is a personal trainer or gym assistant.

However, I begin to notice people skulking about in uniforms that don't match Harry's at all, and realize that Harry must simply be a strangely helpful man.

_'A __strangely helpful man who appears to have a promising interest in me', _now more than ever I am conscious of my appearance and pray that I'm not sweating _too _excessively.

"I guess you don't work here Harry, so what _do_ you do?" I slyly probe, feeling dismay when it comes out as a breathless gasp; not exactly the intended smooth and seductive tone that I am aiming for.

Scruffy Harry smiles "my job is the reason that I come here, see I'm a chocolatier so-" My ears instantly perk up at this I halt my exercise to gape at Harry.

"You're kidding!" I rudely cut Harry off.

Harry's grin grows, "not at all. Of course being around all that chocolate, I imagine that I consume more than most people and so have to somehow atone for my sins."

"Yes, of course," I murmur, considering all of the possibilities and picturing different, favourable scenarios. Needless to say, I am now looking at Harry in a considerably new light.

* * *

Admittedly Secretarial work is probably not the best job for me; after all, my seriously short attention span and careless nature have to be taken into account. However, I enjoy it immensely as I get a desk and a charge/employer of my own and the power to control who gets to see him and who doesn't. It's incredibly satisfying, so satisfying in fact that it keeps me coming to work consistently and on time(ish) every morning.

I especially enjoy when work becomes slow and I can spend time chatting with Gracie who brings around the sandwich cart and Jules from accounting. Both of whom provide me with enough daily gossip to last me through my 8-5 pm shift, and in return I offer them my bitchy opinions and whatever treats I have stashed in my drawer that day.

Today, however, I don't have any sweets or cakes.

"What the hell is _this_?" Gracie complains, thrusting a carrot stick between our equally unhappy faces.

I grimace and attempt to avoid her eyes, "too healthy?" _'I knew it!'_ "I got stuck in the vegetable aisle in Tescos and panicked; carrots were the only trustworthy items that I emerged with." I grumble whilst nibbling one of the offending food stuffs with deep disgust and pondering the 'anti-calorie'.

Do they exist?

If I eat enough will they balance out a slice of chocolate fudge cake?

Gracie snorts and pops one into her mouth, obnoxiously speaking around it as she crunches. "I just don't understand, like, why you suddenly want to lose weight." She swallows painfully and sighs in a manner that suggests that she is disappointed in me.

"I'm sure that the man -rude as he may have been, like- wasn't actually making any reference to your weight. Besides, you _boy, _are one of the skinniest people that I know!" Gracie's voice has a distinctly Cork accent from growing up in Ireland, it is an endless irritation for me to hear as working in Birmingham already exposes me on a daily basis to an accent that grates mightily upon my nerves.

"Can we, like, put sugar on these?" Gracie asks hopefully as she braves another carrot stick with the look of one charging head first into a pit of snakes. She has soft, curly brown hair, azure eyes and round cheeks with a dusting of freckles and this girlish look often contradicts with her irritable and sharp tongued nature.

She and I get on very well.

I tut at her and absently allow my pen to wander over a piece of paper that may or may not have been important.

"Don't tempt me," I warn, lifting up my false glasses to admire my work.

A cat-bird on a stick.

"Abstract," I mutter and Gracie glances at me without any real interest.

When Jake gave me the job I ran a mile with the title 'Secretary'. I bought fake glasses, brushed up on my rumour-mill handling skills and splurged on all a manner of office supplies, most of which I have never had –and most likely will never have- any use for.

"So," I say nonchalantly, catching Gracie's attention. "I've joined a gym." I wait for her to stop laughing before I can continue on. "I've met a guy."

Gracie instantly perks up and the Carrot Stick Drama in forgiven and forgotten.

"Details?" She gasps and I smirk at her.

"Scruffy, toned, green eyed…" I sparsely supply, like a pimp drawing out the addiction of his crack whore.

Indeed this information is not enough to satisfy her. "Name?" Her hands a planted flat upon my desk and she faces me head on, expression lit up with eagerness.

"Harry," I announce with an invisible flourish, there is no need to give his last name as it is irrelevant.

Gracie grins and winks at me, "ooh, he sounds delicious, mind sharing, like?"

I snort then throw my pen at her, "not likely you common hussy!" I grin, suddenly glad to know and have her in my life.

"I hope you're arguing over me," a smooth voice intones from the doorway and Jules saunters in to perch on the edge of my desk.

We had been a couple once upon a time, but then we were almost caught by Jake having sex my desk and I decidedly called it quits. The way that I see is, it's a much better idea to keep the job and ditch the fling, as flings may be fun but the don't get you paid at the end of every month.

Gracie and I ignore him, "Do you want to know the best part?" I am supremely pleased when Gracie nods excitedly and Jules leans unconsciously in. They truly make a good audience.

"He's a chocolatier."

"Get out!" Gracie exclaims and laughs outright, "you're trying to lose weight, you go to a gym, like, and you meet a _chocolatier_?" She cracks up again, leaning upon Jules for support and scattering carrot sticks across the desk and onto the floor.

Jules raises an eyebrow, "you joined a gym?" He drawls, sounding equally as amused. "I didn't expect _that_."

I grumble, "What's so surprising about that? People join gyms, it happens."

"Yes, other people maybe, but not _you_!" Jules embellishes in his helpful way, jabbing a carrot stick at me for emphasis.

"Exactly, like!" Gracie concurs once her breath return and I scowl darkly at the two non believers.

'_True friends indeed.'_

"What's with these things anyway?" Jules strangely eyes the carrot stick in his hand.

I throw my arms up in the air, sigh dramatically and admit defeat. "I have déjà vu! We're talking in bloody circles!"

Jules is seemingly unaffected by my heartfelt admission of pain, "don't you have any malteasers in one of your drawers?" He moans, ferreting about my desk.

It is most certainly a long day that awaits me.

* * *

It's on a Monday morning that I find a suspicious brown package upon my desk.

I check my day-by-day calendar and see that it is the 5th of August. _'Not an oddly early Christmas present then.'_ I shake it, and promisingly familiar heavy rattling sounds emerge. I check for a label, note or return address that would indicate who the mystery sender was, but to no avail.

Casting excited glances about myself I wonder_; 'could it be a prank? Or maybe a secret admirer?'_ I look to see if Jake is in his office, _'could he have left me a present for being so good at my job?'_

I spend a moment or two daydreaming happily about all of the exciting prospects that could emerge from this nonchalant, brown paper package, until I can wait no longer and fiercely rip off the paper and box lid. What faces me is the most beautiful sight in the world; a glorious box of chocolates. They are a selection of truffles that come in a variation of colours and shapes, making each chocolate unique.

When my mouth begins to water I try to distract myself with thoughts of weight loss and foods of a _healthy _nature.

Rationality first!

In my attempts at distraction I notice a small note stuck to the lid of the box which, in my moment of wild abandon, I must have missed.

It reads;

_Draco, _

_I know you're supposed to be losing weight, but I have been experimenting and developing some new treats for my shop. I thought that you might like to try a sample of them._

_Enjoy!_

_Harry x_

The writing is nothing more than a messy scrawl, but it warms my heart; Scruffy Harry, Scruffy writing.

As though the note has granted permission, my fingers snake into the box and select a chocolate and slip it into my mouth before my brain can catch up.

My taste buds ripple in delight the very moment that it touches my tongue, and my well experienced sense of taste applauds Harry's blatantly good skill. The chocolate is mildly bitter with a sweet edge and, biting gently into it, I discover that it has a soft caramel core.

'_Diet be damned!' _My sweet tooth declares, _'it's good to be back!'_

I let it melt underneath my tongue and shiver in happiness. I note, with a hint of impatience, that Tuesday –when I next see Harry at the gym- suddenly feels like a long way off.

Decidedly, I place the note and the lid back on the box and slide it into my drawer. I would savour the chocolates, making each sample just as sensational as the first.

Jake passes through my room on the way to his office, talking seriously on his mobile and we nod and smile briefly to each other.

'_34 hours is a long time to wait,' _I think impatiently, still savouring the aftertaste lingering satisfactorily in my mouth.

* * *

Harry is glad that I appreciate his gift.

"I'm glad," he says whilst pacing before me as I jog on the treadmill, he seems anxious for my approval and I am endlessly pleased that he so highly values my opinion. Of course I haven't mentioned just _how _much I enjoyed the sample for fear of sounding over-eager, after all, I want to impress, not ward off.

Harry sees that I am able to dawdle and increases the speed on the treadmill with a mild, betraying smile. Glaring at his laughing face, I consider that the gym is a highly unsuitable place for chasing the affections of another.

I spend the rest of my work out pondering this problem and wondering how to rectify it. We are on the way back to the changing rooms when I put my hand firmly on Harry's arm, instantly granting me his full attention.

"Are you free this Saturday?" I cough nervously, wanting to avoid his intense gaze but managing to control myself.

"No," Harry grins, "I'm having dinner with you."

I beam at him and decidedly couldn't give a rat's ass about how goofy my expression is because I have suddenly found myself upon Cloud Nine.

* * *

A Bell jingles somewhere, but it is lost in my subconscious. I think that I have gone to heaven, but am fairly certain that I just have a flair for exaggerating. What I do know to be fact is that I am standing in the heart of what must be chocolate Eden.

Harry's chocolate shop.

It is decorated with rich dark colours -pinks, reds and browns-, dim lighting and darkened alcoves. Chocolates of the widest range of varieties consume most of the shops space, overflowing in trays and piled upon shelves and racks. The shops smell mimics its appearance; heady and dark, seductive almost.

I almost feel liken to a shady character looking to purchase a taboo product from an underground black market stall and the sense of immorality gives me a kick.

I suddenly see Harry, who is at the epicentre of it all, standing behind the counter and staring intently at me. I can only describe him as a twisted puppet master -that is- twisted in the sense of slightly askew rather than twisted-dark. Here, on his home turf, Harry emanates a power of sorts, an allure that seeps into the shop and undoubtedly attracts an abundance of customers. This is a power that is not present during the times that we meet at the gym and it baffles me slightly.

The irony of this entire ludicrous situation is most certainly not lost on me.

Harry's voice slides into my sense, "what do you think?" He asks. The answer must be written upon my awestruck -and embarrassingly dazed- face, but his burning green eyes compel me to answer.

"This shop is incredible" I breathe.

He advances "I'm glad you think so." His voice seems deeper somehow, but this too could be an illusion of the mind. "Are you ready to go?" He stands beside me and I remember that I am here for a reason.

It is Saturday the 10th of August, 6:30pm. Harry is closing up his shop and joining me for dinner, the choice of food is entirely his be personal request.

My chocolate induced euphoria begins to dissipate and I wonder whether my addiction is starting to borderline on excessive and obsessive. My sweet tooth heartily disagrees and I back down.

Smiling at Harry I lead the way out, all the way fighting the temptation to turn back and eat the entire shop. I'm sure that it would kill me.

_'Death by consumption'_, I like that; it has a ring to it. Maybe, if I eat enough, I can even go out with a glorious bang.  
Harry peers at me with concern and I realise that I have once again fallen into lusting after chocolate.  
I watch as he locks the shop up and follow him down the street.

" I think that your shop hypnotized me," I say by way of explanation for my partial mental paralysis, I am slightly embarrassed about the entire ordeal but Harry seems to wholly understand.

In the light of day I can see that he has made an effort for our date, his clothes are casually smart and his hair is somewhat complacent.

Scruffy Harry has become Vaguely Ruffled Harry.

I throw him an affectionate smile for his efforts and it pleases him.

"So where are we going?"

"To Sutton Park" he replies and only then do I notice that his left hand is occupied by a basket.

"A picnic?" _'How novel,'_ amusement captures me.

Harry gifts me with a crooked grin "A special picnic, and we can watch the sunset whilst we eat."

"You old romantic," I tease, eliciting a chuckle as he shifts the weight of the basket to his other hand, bumping it gently against my knee as we walk.

"Romantic indeed" his smile holds a secret and I wonder what it is that he has concealed within his basket of tricks.

* * *

I am hopelessly enchanted by Harry.

"It's a little naughty, I know," Harry grins, "but the point of being an adult is to get away with this kind of thing."

A man who is truly after my own heart. Or stomach at least.

"Are you real?" I ask, pinching him lightly and allowing myself to find satisfaction in his solidity.

"100 percent."

"Then I'm afraid that I am in love."

Our picnic consists of dessert and nothing else.

Harry offers me a slice of treacle tart, "Do you mind putting aside your weight loss for a little while?" He asks in a way that -if I were not so besotted- I would have considered stupid.

I scoff at him, but the effect is lost somehow in my mouthful of treacle tart.

We watch the sunset and I marvel at how breathtaking something so simple can be. I find myself wishing that I could somehow bottle this memory, just draw it out of my head and store it in a cupboard for future reference.

Eventually, most of the food is gone and all that remain are more samples of Harry's divine chocolate. We converse in soft voices as we recline on Harry's blanket and eat them idly. Twilight is settling around us and despite the light of the city, we are able to watch the stars make an appearance one-by-one, each on sparking into existence like the streetlights around us.

Harry's eyes are bright and he gestures wildly, his hands seem pale in the approaching darkness, and each movement catches my attention. He is incredibly animated as he talks excitedly of his friends' daughter, and the excitement makes his cheeks flush slightly.

"She does this thing -it's so cute- where she holds up her h- what?" He stops mid-sentence and regards me with those green eyes when I reach out with a fond smile and curl my hand around the front of his shirt. I tug him towards me, ensuring not to break eye contact.

Harry squints at me for a moment, as though hovering uncertainly on the brink of something groundbreaking, then gives in with a slow closing of his eyes

The kiss is everything and somehow more than I have dreamt of over the past few days and it makes my head swim and my thoughts liquefy. I am only aware of the breeze ruffling my hair and cooling the back of my neck and the fluent movement of lips.

When I pull away Harry's eyes are still shut and his flushed lips are still partially open and curved into a quiet smile as thought he is frozen in a moment of bliss. I can't really describe the kiss without using unhelpful words such as 'shazam', 'fireworks' and 'blam!' as they consist of the only vocabulary that my water-logged brain can suggest, so I settle for an awe-filled "wow..."

Harry's eyes open and he grins at me, "definitely 'wow'."

For a moment I am baffled by how unaffected his brain seems to suddenly be, baffled and jealous. However these infuriated thoughts are swiftly scattered when he pulls me back for another 'wow' kiss.

* * *

"I can smell chocolate, like," is how Gracie greets me when she strolls into my office during Monday lunchtime.

My first reaction is to feel guilty for eating Harry's sample truffles whilst 'dieting', and therefore deceiving my best friends who have had to falsely suffer beside me. My sweet tooth cackles at my weak will and high maintenance addiction.

I decide to confess; "Harry sent me a box of his chocolates." Confession is supposed to be good for the soul after all.

Gracie fixes me with a serious look "well then?" She holds out her hand expectantly, as though mimicking a saint who is allowing a mere plebeian to repent for his mortal sins.

I laugh incredulously, "listen Gracie, this box is like a little package of _sex_; it's sinful and oh-so-satisfying and although we may share the same preferences, there is no way in hell that I am sharing this with you!"

Jake, passing by on the way to his office, laughs and Gracie looks half affronted, half impressed.  
"Touché," she concedes with a small smile and retracts her hand, reaching instead for the large bag of pine nuts that are sulkily perched on the edge of my desk.

"So, er like, what did you guys do on your date?" Gracie asks whilst tucking a thick strand of hair behind her ear.

"We went for a picnic composed solely of dessert."

"Just dessert?" She gapes, forgetting a pine nut suspended mid-way between her mouth and its bag.  
I nod, "just dessert."

Gracie's hums in approval "will you have a Civil Partnership?"

I think this over, "I suppose we shall have to."

"He's like your sugar daddy," Gracie dreamily exclaims -I refrain from trying to correct her- and as she writes crude messages on my stick-it notes, I am forcefully reminded of a girl that I met whilst at Boarding School. She had arrived with her all-girls school for a visit and insisted that we be friends because we both had blond hair. I had never been more terrified of any other female, and spent the weekend attempting to hide from her.

I think the other girls called her Crazy or Loony or something...

Gracie grins benignantly and offers me a green stick-it with a disturbing picture of what I suppose is meant to be Harry and myself.

I frown, "that's much too messy, I would never do that."

She blinks at me, glancing between her work and my serious face, searching for the joke. Upon not finding it she shakes her head and smiles ruefully "sometimes, like, I just don't get you, Draco."

* * *

We go jogging one afternoon, Harry and I. Harry can't understand why I need to lose weight, he says that I am "perfect already" and that I have a "gorgeous body". Under normal circumstances I would punch the speaker of these sickeningly sweet words squarely in the mouth. However, this time I choose to smile broadly at Harry's earnest expression and say in a manner most corny, "beauty is in the eye of the beholder." I then push him craftily into a bush and initiate sneaky PDAs to avoid further embarrassing myself, much to Harry's approval.

Afterwards, I hit _myself_ for being so cheesy.

A week later I bang my head against my office desk for falling for Scruffy Harry.

AN/ An odd and abrupt ending I know, but it's what felt right to me at the time. I'm not trying to rob you of your perfect ending because I can't be bothered...sort of.


End file.
